


Little Talks

by The_White_Rabbit42



Series: Home for the Holidays [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Human Gabriel, Slow Burn, hunter reader, some floofs, touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: You have a familiar talk with Gabriel that makes you realize not everything has changed.





	Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Of Monsters and Men song by the same name which just felt fitting.

 

When daylight broke, you noticed Gabriel starting to get a little antsy.  He managed to keep it under wraps, but the later it grew the worse he became.  You hadn’t considered how he’d never had to endure anything longer than he wished, let alone suffer through an incredibly long car ride.  

 

Sympathy bloomed inside of you as you noticed the wildness that echoed behind gold.  He looked like a caged animal, his eyes eagerly scanning the world around him,  freedom so close and yet so far from his grasp.  Unending cornfields had been replaced with heavily wooded, hilly areas broken up by the occasional burst of civilization as you passed near a city.  The mountains surrounding you had an almost purple tinge to them from the now bare branches, save for the occasional green slope or smattering of evergreen trees.  The temperature had dropped noticeably as well, and when he wasn’t the only one in need of heat you realized how underdressed you both were.  

 

You made a mental note to go into town.  You packed more munitions than clothes these days, anyway, and the fact that the former archangel had come to you with only a small backpack suggested you were both in need of more than just winter gear.  

 

There was so much that needed to be done.  The place you were staying needed to be warded.  Devil’s traps had to be set up around the grounds.  You needed at least two more hex bags plus a handful of extras, just in case.  

 

Not to mention you hadn’t heard from your friend since you left Arizona, which meant she probably had yet to break the news to her celestial-phobic husband that a former archangel was crashing at their place indefinitely.  

 

_ One cluster at a time _ you reminded yourself.  

 

You turned your attention back to Gabriel, who looked awfully close to pawing at the window.  

 

“We should be there by noon,” you informed him, hoping a concrete time frame might help with his restlessness.    

 

“I don’t understand how you humans do this,” he muttered, finally dragging his gaze back into the car.  He looked tired.  Light circles were appearing beneath his eyes, his skin a shade paler than normal.  A light sprinkling of stubble peppered his jaw and upper lip, and it struck you how normal it all seemed, despite it being unusual for him.  

 

“Road trips aren’t for everyone,” you agreed, your body suddenly in need of a good stretch.  An ache flared in the shoulder you’d hit back at the gas station, the muscles surrounding it particularly stiff.  You gave it a few good rolls, knowing it would only bring temporary relief until you could do something more substantial.

 

He observed the movement before responding.  “... I meant waiting.”

 

Your lips twitched.  He had never been big on patience.  He was going to be in for some big adjustments now that he couldn’t snap himself what he wanted when he wanted.

 

Of course that also meant so were  _ you _ .  

 

You made a mental note to add the liquor store as one of your necessary stops.

 

“It’s an acquired skill,” you told him, your mouth pulling up into a wry, half-smile.  You could feel him still looking at you, but you couldn’t tell whether he was gauging your reaction or measuring his own.  These little pauses of his were curious more than uncomfortable.  He was holding everything so close, guarding himself in an all too familiar way.  You couldn’t blame him after all that happened, you just wished you had some sense of what was going on inside his mind to help put it at ease.

 

“You never did tell me where we’re going,” he said, breaking the silence again.

 

You hadn’t told him much, period.  You had made damn sure not to tell the Winchesters anything, but once you were alone with him he had been so different, you hadn’t been certain how to proceed.  You were far from finding solid ground with him, and he also seemed at a loss of how to handle you.

 

You wondered how long it would take for either of you to get back there.

 

“We’re headed where everyone who’s wanted does… The Wall,” you said dryly.  Your joke wasn’t far from the truth.  The town you were staying in was so far north it was practically in Canada.

 

Instead of amusement, all you received was a blank look and a furrowed brow.  

 

Oh.  Right.  He hadn’t been around for that show.  

 

There were so many things he had missed in the seven and a half years he’d been gone.  Stupid things.  Big things.  World ending things.  You wondered what his reaction would be when he found out the Winchesters had almost dragged you all into another apocalypse bad enough to —

 

Oh.  

 

Oh  _ shit.   _ Shit, shit, shit, shit,  _ shit _ .   

 

He had missed his father’s return.  The Almighty was now only Chuck knew where on a nice little family getaway with Amara.  How were you even supposed to break that news to him when he had so much else to worry about?

 

“You all right?”  Gabriel asked, pulling you back out of your thoughts.

 

Once again, the answer was a resounding  _ no _ .  You did not want to start things off by keeping secrets, especially ones as big as these.  Yet, what choice did you have?  This wasn’t first or even second day information.  This was more like several weeks and one fully stocked bar territory.  

 

That stop to the liquor store just became a much bigger priority.  

 

“We’re headed close to the Canadian border,” you deflected.  “I have friends up there who own an inn.  They said we can stay as long as we need to.”

 

He took a moment to consider the information, and you weren’t sure if it was your own sense of guilt that made you feel like you were suddenly under the microscope or if your dilemma was somehow showing through.

 

“Do you honestly think that’s a good idea?”  He questioned.  He seemed incredulous, words clipped in a way that almost sounded like he was belittling the plan.  You glanced at him, taken aback by the shift.  It wasn’t until your eyes met his that you realized there was an intensity in his gaze bleeding into his tone.  

 

It took you a moment to recognize that particular stare, but once you did, everything suddenly made sense.

 

You never understood why no one else could see it.  Sure, he obscured it with theatrics and bravado, all but smothered it beneath that cocky, self-satisfied air, but it had always been there, that desire to protect, to bring good to the world.  He was unconventional about it, you’d give him that, but the more you’d looked into the people he’d targeted as the Trickster, the more you realized his antics at the college where Sam and Dean first met him were more of a game to toy with the Winchesters than it was his usual song and dance. 

 

“They’re former hunters.  They know what they’re getting into,” you reassured, feeling a familiar squeeze around your heart that left it aching.

 

“Former,” he repeated, the tension in his tone rising.

 

You nodded and you almost swore you saw something flash just beneath the surface of gold.

  
  


_ “They’re right.  I am dangerous.”   _

 

_ A throbbing headache blunted your reflexes and you didn’t so much as flinch as you continued to tear through your bag.  You were startled by the sudden presence, but it didn’t surprise you that he was there. You and the Winchesters had been certainly shouting the archangel’s name loud enough for him to hear it wherever he was in Creation. _

 

_ “They’re also wrong,” you insisted, throwing the flap back over your things in frustration when your search came up empty.  You heard him snap from across the room and suddenly your head cleared.  The pain did, anyway.  You mind was still pretty clouded by your anger and Sam’s and Dean’s refusal to accept anything that contradicted their original opinions.  You could deal with their stubbornness, but what really rankled was that your own brother had jumped ship and sided with them as well.   _

 

_ “Thanks,” you told the angel, turning to find gold fixed on you more intently than usual.   _

 

_ “You’re wasting your breath you know,” he said casually, inspecting his immaculate fingernails.  As if there’d  _ **_ever_ ** _ be a speck of dirt beneath them. _

 

_ “They’ll come around.”  You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince: him or yourself because the thought of having one more thing on your plate was already starting to make your headache come back.   _

 

_ “Whatever you’re doing, stop,” he told you, his tone snippy.  “Or else the next thing I’ll be snapping out of you will be an ulcer.” _

 

_ You sighed.  Why did he have to prove he wasn’t  _ **_just_ ** _ an ass when it was only ever the two of you? _

 

_ “You’re better off just dropping it,” he continued, his tone suggesting he was growing bored of this topic.  “Whatever you’ve convinced yourself I am, I’m not.  I use people for my own amusement and no matter what any of you have to say, I still don’t care about your little world ending dilemma with my brother.” _

 

_ Only he did care.  He had to.  Ever since he’d been forced to admit his true identity, you had only seen more of him, and while he did tend to toy with the Winchesters, he didn’t with everyone.  For whatever reason, he got along just fine with what was left of your family.  _

 

_ Which was why you were currently debating what your brother’s name should now be: Brutus or Judas. _

 

_ “Just because you enjoy being a dick doesn’t mean you can’t be a good person,” you pointedly reiterated  _

 

_ “That’s just the thing, sweetheart, I’m neither a person nor am I meant to be one.” There was an unsettling flash that illuminated his eyes, an even brighter, purer shade of gold that was equally as awe-inspiring as it was dangerous.  His features hardened and that absolute quality trickled into the room, causing your skin to prickle with the power that radiated from him.   _

 

_ You swallowed, forcing yourself to move beyond the inherent threat sent your instincts on high alert.  This may be what an archangel was, but it wasn’t who  _ **_he_ ** _ was.  _

 

_ “Yeah, well, it doesn’t make you a monster either,” you said matter-of-factly.  _

 

_ You picked up the thick file sitting next to your bag, walking it over where you unceremoniously shoved it against his chest.  His brow crept up and you were vaguely aware it wasn’t a wise move to make, but you weren’t willing to let him intimidate you anymore than the Winchesters.  _

 

_ “This entire thing is filled with rapists, murderers, child abusers…  _ **_those_ ** _ are real monsters,” you informed him.  He didn’t so much as glance inside which meant one of two things was true.  Either he had been paying attention to what you’d been doing over the last several weeks or he was reading your mind.   _

 

_ You’d like to think it was the former considering how clear you’d made it that inside your head was a no fly zone.  Plus you’d really hate to stab him after all the time you’d just spent defending him.    _

 

_ “You think this means you know me?” He demanded.  You could see his defenses raising, those tightly shuttered walls of his snapping into place now that he realized simple scare tactics weren’t going to work.  Your anger deflated, sympathy streaming in its wake.  Who were you but some insignificant human that believed he had more good in him than he would let on?  And yet he felt the need to protect himself all the same from you. _

 

_ “No, Gabe,” you said, your tone softening.  “It means I think you’re better than everyone says you are.  Including you.” _

  
  


“Why?”  He insisted, his voice drawing you back to the present.  “Why invite trouble to their doorstep if they’re out?”

 

You paused, needing a moment to clear your thoughts.  Like then, you knew you had to choose your words carefully in order for him to understand.   

 

“Because they’re my friends and I asked them.”  You could tell he still didn’t get it, the question forming on his tongue as he prepared to give you more push back.  “Because _you’re_ my friend.” 

 

The argument died on his lips.  For a second he only stared, clearly unsure of what to say.  Before all this, he would have had some smartass remark to make, likely an innuendo that you would laugh at to cover the real response it evoked with hopes that he wouldn’t notice.  Now, he simply sat back in his seat as if defeated.  

 

He didn’t turn back toward the window, instead staring straight ahead, and amber took on a strange somber quality you’d never seen before.  

 

“I didn’t ask for your help,” he murmured.  He didn’t sound angry or ungrateful.  If anything he was just stating a fact.  

 

“That’s the thing with friends, Gabe,” you smiled at him, doing your best to keep the gesture warm despite the sadness threatening to overtake it; you hated seeing him this way, no matter how normal it was for him to act like this.  “You don’t have to.”


End file.
